


Macross: The Final Frontier

by out_of_the_woodsyet



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Injury, M/M, Single Dad!Ben, benkaru, brief moments of danger, chulu - Freeform, chulu vs benkaru love triangle, mild swearing, sex mention but no depiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-06-11 05:46:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15308763
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/out_of_the_woodsyet/pseuds/out_of_the_woodsyet
Summary: Aboard the Frontier, the massive intergalactic cruiser floating from star to star, the human race looks out to the galaxy with wonder and fear. Underneath the artificial sky, hearts are rustling; a young and ambitious pilot, a pop star returning home, and a refugee just trying to get through the day. But something is headed their way from within the darkened void outside, and their lives are about to change.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is loosely (loosely) based off of the anime Macross: Frontier. I have combined elements from both Macross and Star Trek, and in some places I just make stuff up for my own narrative purposes. Most of the songs in this fic are ones that I wrote, but the others are from Macross.

At two hours left in his shift, time began to drag on at a pace unnoticeably changing. The incremental progression of seconds slowed to a snail’s pace, and Ben was certain that if he took his pulse the blood in his veins was as stagnant as a bottlenecked roadway. 

His eyes drifted among the brightly colored products in the convenience store, stacked and stored neatly and aesthetically so as to be welcoming to customers aboard the Frontier, the colonial vessel he now stood on behind a cashier’s counter. Somewhere beyond the grey buildings outside and the shadows they cast was a blue sky. A fake one, but a pretty one, and beyond that, the dark of space, so vast that it was hard to quantify that the Yorktown had ever existed in it.

The Yorktown. His home. The life and happiness he had worked so hard to achieve. All of that was gone now. Blown to smithereens one month ago by some as yet unidentified evil floating in the black. Ben sometimes wondered about the things in his home, from the kitchen sink to his collection of vinyl records, contemplating if they had been destroyed when the Yorktown’s sky had imploded and the infrastructure crumbled, or if they were at least in part drifting carelessly through the vacuum of space. 

Two weeks ago Ben and his daughter had been approved, along with about half of the survivors, to be taken as refugees to the Frontier. They had been lucky, had barely made it to the evacuation stations as their friends and neighbors were left behind, but there was no rejoicing among the survivors, whether they were going to the Frontier or to the Galaxy, two much larger man-made settlement for humankind than the Yorktown, and from what  they had heard or seen in pictures, much more glamorous. The survivors had been split down the middle at random by the Federation official and crammed into transports like livestock, clutching their few belongings and barely reacting to their ships taking off. 

So clearly could Ben now picture his young daughter Demora, with deep bags under her eyes and sunken cheeks, pressing her little nose against the glass to get a better look at the Frontier. Traveling from one settlement to another was uncommon, but there was no excitement in her eyes, no glimmering anticipation as they looked down at the big blue egg that held their future.

“Is this where we live now, Daddy?” she had asked him as the vessel grew closer. Funny how she didn’t ask something like “is this our new home?” Kids are more receptive than adults give them credit for.

Officially, as stated by the Federation and the Frontier’s leaders, the Frontier was happy to take welcome Yorktown refugees, but the reactions of the citizens told a different story. The Frontier had a finite amount of space within, and when the refugees had arrived they were seen as more of a nuisance than anything, a burden to be jettisoned if given the chance. Ben was lucky enough to have hatched an impromptu deal with a woman he met during their journey, a mother of two who lost her spouse in the Yorktown’s destruction. They both had the same perspective and were willing to work together to achieve it: the kids’ safety came first. Between the two of them they managed to find a crummy studio apartment with a fold-out couch for a bed and one cramped bathroom, but they were doing their best. They let the kids take the bed and slept on the floor, pooled their money for decent enough meals for the young ones, even if they had to skip a meal or two themselves. 

It was working… 

Working well enough, anyway.

Drifting off, wondering if this day-by-day system could ever evolve into something comfier for his daughter, Ben found himself once again looking out of the shop window into the crowd of passers by. For the first time in his life, he truly had no idea what the future held. 

  
  


 

Pavel looked down from his perch. Upon arriving to the Frontier only hours ago, he had been shown to a private observatory, high above the city inside the infrastructure of the artificial sky. 

His townhome wasn’t quite ready yet sir, so sorry for the inconvenience sir, it will be ready by the evening sir, but he didn’t mind, wanted to just sit in silence regarding his hometown from above with a strange mix of nervousness and pride. 

Ten years. It had been ten long years since he had been scooped up by Walküre Academy, the prestigious music school aboard the Galaxy, and left his home, unsure if he would ever return. Ten years since he’d walked these streets, breathed this air, seen his friends.

His friends. Were they still his friends? Pavel wondered if they still wanted to see him at all. Messages between colony ships was difficult and rare, and as time passed he felt he and his childhood friends grow tired of sending messages that were received months, sometimes over a year later. The last transmission he had ever sent was four years ago, mostly apologizing, with no reply, at least none he had gotten. 

Pavel had been nervously holding his phone in his sweaty hand for twenty minutes, the contact information he had asked someone to look up for him ready to be used, if only he could find the courage. Would his best friend remember him? Would they even get along now? They were different people. Time does that, and in Pavel’s case, fame does that. Could a pop idol show up on a man’s front door and just expect to be welcomed in like nothing had changed, like they were still the carefree fifteen-year-olds they had once been?

His clear blue eyes looked to his phone as he quickly reread the message he had written and edited furiously in the hopes that it would get across what he was feeling, let his friend know how much he had missed him. 

Steadily, he breathed in and out, then hit “send”. 

He looked back to the streets below. His new life and his old life were about to collide.

  
  


 

Hikaru heard his squad leader’s voice, stern and steady, chattering in his ear through his pilot’s helmet. 

After years of working through the military academy to achieve his dream, Hikaru found himself standing calmly on the edge balcony without a railing, a mile and a half above the ground. His squadmates were beside him, perfectly in formation, awaiting the orders of their superior. Just a training exercise, but as the top squadron on the Frontier, they never half-assed anything. 

“On my mark,” his squad leader was saying. “Five, four, three, two… Go.”

Hikaru exhaled and let himself fall. Outside of his exo-suit, his Valkyrie, air zoomed past him, and the world turned upside down as he plummeted towards the rolling hills of the Frontier. His body was tense but his mind was relaxed. 

His captain once again counted off, and at the same moment, their suits activated and the group swung upwards in a V formation. Their vapor trails must look beautiful from below, and they would only get more intricate as their exercises continued. 

For a brief moment, Hikaru closed his eyes and let himself take a breath of relief. When he was flying, everything was simple. When he was flying, he was free. 


	2. Chapter 2

The sky was just beginning to dim when Ben set up camp in what he felt was an unintrusive part of the shopping center. Not too close to a store’s entrance to be loitering, but not far enough away from foot traffic to be hidden. His heart pounded in his chest. He had performed before, but in front of students or friends. Never for strangers, and never without invitation, but he was getting desperate. His daughter was his number 1 priority, and if that meant busking for extra cash, he would do it. 

Corn dogs and tater tots, Ben thought to himself. Your baby’s favorite meal. Just a few dollars could mean corn dogs and tater tots for Demora. 

Trying to look nonchalant, he opened his guitar case and set it out to accept offerings. He looked over his guitar, and messed with the tuning pegs, which in itself was a comforting action. When was the last time he had played? Hell, when was the last time he had even thought about playing? 

For years he had been a music teacher in a high school on the Yorktown. Music had been a presence in his life like mortar between bricks, the lifeblood of his existence and a source of his happiness. When he was young and wondering what the future held, wandering in jobs fairs with his friends and anxiously looking over fliers, he made up his mind to teach when he realized that there would be nothing better than sharing his love of music with others. 

Through college he further developed his self-taught guitar skills and tackled any new instrument he could get his hands on. He had dabbled in the violin, theremin, and cello, and had mastered the guitar, drums, and the piano, which included sound-sampling. Every waking moment Ben was working at learning and creating, and with time he branched out of the classroom and into public. For a short time worked with a band that performed in a non-denominational church in his neighborhood, and later was able to work with fellow students to produce a short album, which could still be found online and had pretty good reviews. 

Once he was a teacher he had, without meaning to but to his great amusement and pride, become The Cool Teacher. His rappor with the student body had apparently began with his carefree approach to teaching (a byproduct of his own approach to music) and his encouragement of free expression and experimentation with sound during class (which each semester inevitably began with kids smacking pens against their desks but evolved into groups of students creating rhythms out of various objects and feeling really proud of themselves). His popularity grew when students realized that his love of music outweighed his teacher’s duties as an authority, and he became approachable, easy to talk to. He remembered fondly students who had come to him as a friendly ear during hard times, and felt proud of every aspiring artist who would make time to see him after school so Ben could help them learn more about music and what they were capable of. Even the kids who took his class for an easy A wound up on good terms with him, and would give him little waves in the hall.

That job had provided him an ideal work environment. He made friends with the other teachers, had enough free time to pursue his own musical goals on the side, and made enough money to put roof over his head, to have fun exploring the city and landscape of the Galaxy, and eventually enough to adopt Demora, and to bring her into a loving home where she would never know hunger.

Well, that would have been true, if not for what happened to the Yorktown… 

Corn dogs and tater tots, corn dogs and tater tots… 

Before he could talk himself out of it and walk home, Ben started strumming. Simple sound tests turned into familiar melodies, and before he knew it he was playing as if he had never had to put music on the back burner. 

He sang a few songs that were popular, then played the guitar with no vocals for a bit in the hopes that people would respond better to a mellow mood for their shopping. Either approach seemed to bring about similar results, but he wasn't discouraged. A few people stopped to listen, and some were nice enough to leave a little change. After an hour or so Ben was relaxed enough that the money felt like a bonus, that most of all it just felt good to be making music again, to be doing something he enjoyed and not making himself sick thinking of money, or the future, or his past. 

When the sky was dark and he was close to calling it quits for the night, he started to fiddle with a song he had been writing, but had never performed before. The song was sort of somber, but not exactly sad, and he wasn’t sure exactly who the song was for, but before he knew it his fingers were dancing on their own on chords worn by love, humming then singing with more ease than he expected: 

You make me feel young again,  
Breath air into my lungs again,  
Showed me how to have fun again,  
Make me feel brand ne-e-ew.  
Oh when the world just don’t make any sense,  
Your heart fills the hole in my chest,  
Oh yeah-eah,  
Oh, you make me feel young again. 

He continued the tune and looked around him, surprised to see he had accidentally assembled a small crowd. Even some unshrunken Zentradi had stopped in their oversized walkway to listen, though he wasn’t sure if or how they could hear him from their altitude. Suddenly in the spotlight, he continued to hum along with the tune, then some “da-da-da”s, and then he was creating a new verse on the spot: 

My feet are heavy from this broken path,  
I’ve used up more than I thought I had,  
Never knew that I could be so sad,  
Till I saw you-u-u.  
I feel your warmth flowing through my veins,  
Neither of us will be the same,  
Honey you and I can make a change,  
In this world we lo-o-ove. 

Oh, you make me feel young again,  
Breath air into my lungs again,  
Showed me how to have fun again,  
Make me feel brand ne-e-ew.  
Oh when the world just don’t make any sense,  
Your heart fills the hole in my chest,  
Oh yeah-eah,  
You make me feel young again!

The tuned ended, and his listeners broke out into a happy applause. The people disbursed to continue their shopping, but a few approaching him, this time not just with spare change, but a larger bits of currency. Ben almost cried thinking of what this could mean for Demora. 

Corn dogs and tater tots, plus some chocolate ice cream! 

Feeling he was at the end of a perfect hot streak, Ben tucked his guitar into its case atop the money and started heading home. 

Sauntering home, Ben felt like he weighed 100 lbs lighter. Maybe things really could turn around. He had two jobs, working the register at the convenience store and stocking shelves at a bookstore. If he did that, plus busking on the side, his finances could potentially be in the black more often than not. Maybe in time he could work his way up to better-paying hourly jobs. The future seemed to so hopefully that it took his a while to notice the crowds of people headed in the opposite direction as he was walking, and longer still to notice the long, wailing sound in the distance. 

Sirens were blaring. But not nearby. No, they were coming from--

Ben’s heart went cold. They were coming from his neighborhood. 

“No… No no no.” Ben’s brain went from blank shock to full-fledged panic. He was running as fast as his legs could carry him, pumping his arms and sending the change rattling inside his guitar case. “No no no no NO NO NO NO NO!”

There were strange lights over the tops of the apartments. What the hell were they? Were those military Valkyries? At least some of them must be; the small personal mech suits that the Federation pilots used within the Frontier’s atmosphere could be spotted easily. Ben and Demora had seen them at night a few times, their vapor trails and the lights of their wings strangely beautiful as a stark contrast to the night sky.  
But why were they there? What were the other things flying around? Ben could see some sort of something, but what?

As he approached he saw police officers directing people away from the confusion, and as Ben tried to make his way past them and to his apartment he was blocked off.

“Sir, we need you to evacuate the area.”

“My daughter--”

“Sir, please--”

A blast knocked them both off their feet and sent debris from a building raining on the empty streets. Ben shook his head, but it was fuzzy. He held onto his guitar case for dear life, as if it would somehow ground him. For a moment he couldn’t make out any specific sounds, but then a small voice far away caught his attention and he went springing to his feet and into the evacuated zone. 

Corn dogs and tater tots was all he could think about. Corn dogs and tater tots--

“DEMORA!”

Confused pedestrians were scattered in between fallen street lamps and upturned cars, either searching for loved ones or fixated on the Valkyries and the unknown assailants dogfighting above. Among this, barely visible in the flickering light streaming through a broken shop window, was a tiny figure, looking around with teary eyes and tugging at the hem of her t-shirt. 

He couldn’t hear her over the blast, but he saw her mouth moving: Dad?

A bolt of energy crashed down between them, and Ben watched, in horror, as the side of a building crumbled and cast a dark shadow over his tiny daughter.

His heart was caught in his throat. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t breathe. He couldn’t help her. 

Someone was pulling his limp body away, but just before the debris fell, he saw a flash of light swoop under the building and scoop up his daughter before flying away. 

 

Hikaru exhaled in a sudden burst. He was an excellent pilot but even he was a little surprised that he had pulled that off. Their captain had ordered Hikaru and another pilot to work defense, to help the officials on foot to evacuate the area. Hikaru and the other pilot, a shrunken Zentradi named Spock, and zipped over the streets, trying to make sense of the scene. If it had been daytime maybe they would have had a better grasp on the situation, but with only the help of starlight and streetlights it was hard to see who needed help. Damnit, when were they going to turn the sky back on--?

Just as he was thinking that, he heard a shout from the street. A man running towards a young girl. Everyone else on the street seemed motivated to move, but many like the girl were paralyzed. 

“Watch your back!” Spock yelled through their radio, and Hikaru just managed to dodge a blast of energy that was aimed directly at his head. Unfortunately the bolt struck a building on the ground, and it teetered dangerously over the girl.

Damnit. 

Hikaru dove at break-neck speed towards the ground. He contorted his body to miss a falling brick wall, and just managed to swipe up the girl and fly away before he heard the rubble collide with the concrete.  
He slowed down and looked at the girl in his arms. Teeny little thing, couldn’t have been older than about six. She looked through the blast shield of his helmet and met his gaze, and though she was scared, she seemed at least a little relieved to see him, a friendly face after a near-fatal incident. 

“Are you alright?” he asked. 

She was crying and unable to speak, but she managed to nod. 

Still holding her, Hikaru shifted his position to be closer to the ground. There had to be someone looking for her, but it was impossible to make out individual faces in the crowd. 

“Are you looking for someone?” Hikaru asked. “Are you here with your mommy or your daddy?”

The girl was still choking on sobs, but she managed to stutter out: “I w-w-want my D-daddy!” 

Carefully Hikaru glided to the ground beside a police officer. “It’s okay, honey, this nice lady will help you.”

The girl wailed harder. The officer tried to coax her out of Hikaru’s arms but she refused to go. “D-d-don’t le-e-e-ave meeeee!” she pleaded, tears cascading down her face.  
Hikaru bit his lip. He didn’t want to cause her any more grief, but he was still a Valkyrie and needed to tend to either the battle or the crowd. 

“We could use an escort to the shelter,” the officer suggested helpfully. “You could stay with her and help us.”

That was actually a great idea. The evacuees were still running in the dark, and the officers on the ground were barely keeping them on the right path. Seriously, why wasn’t the sky turning back on? 

After a brief call and an OK from his squad leader, Hikaru flew above the crowds. He used the lights on his exo-suit to direct the flow of traffic, and after a while the panic subsided in both the crowd and his tiny companion. Hikaru heard chatter from the battle, but he was still assigned to crowd detail, and stayed at the entrance to the underground emergency shelter until the last stragglers and first responders were inside. 

“Alright, dear,” Hikaru said to the girl, who by now cas calm enough to be let go to stand on the ground beside the officer from before. “I have to go help my friends now. Can I leave you here with this nice lady? She’s going to help you find your dad, okay?”

The little girl nodded. 

“What is your Daddy’s name? Do you know that?” Hikaru asked. He didn’t know a lot about kids, but he hoped this girl was old enough to know that parents had names other than Mom and Dad. To his great relief she did know her father’s full name, and a call was put out for a Benjamin Douglas Jung to come to Emergency Station E to collect his daughter. When Demora was satisfied with this, Hikaru gave her one last assurance that everything was going to be alright, then flew off into the night.


	3. Chapter 3

It couldn’t be kept from the public that the military had no idea what had happened that night. The human race was currently in good standing with other cultures, and no race or extremist group seemed to be taking credit, and because of the dark, it was hard to tell exactly what had been floating around that night.

Most people thought that logically the threat had to be an interior one, some sort of group who wanted to do damage for no good reason. Others wondered if it was a military experiment gone haywire, and that that was why the Valkyrie were so quick to be on the scene, but that didn’t seem to hold up either. Theories were varied but none seemed to dominate because there was so little to go on.

While the public were chattering and wondering what the hell had happened, the military were similarly scrambling for information. Damnit, weren’t THEY the ones who were supposed to be in the know? Something so shocking and sudden must be an act of either war or terrorism, some said, but the attacking forces were small in number, and according to lengthy questioning of the Gold Squadron, they best they could figure was that there were at least 3 and at most 5. 

No known motives, no prisoners taken, and not a single clear picture or video to help. Hikaru and his team were shuffled here and there, past scurrying uniforms and click-clacking of keyboards to be questioned and briefed and debriefs and questioned some more. 

In between sessions Gold Squadron were left to wait in a spacious atrium, normally a sleek entryway to the Frontier’s main control area but now a flurry of skidding boots and stern voices. 

Just as Hikaru was thinking they were never going to get out of there, he heard a voice echoing through the atrium:

“KARU-CHAN!”

Hikaru’s tired posture suddenly straightened and his head whipped around. No one had called him that in years, no one had ever called him that except--

“PAVEL!”

From across the marble floor, weaving in and out of the crown, came a a bobbing head of curls Hikaru would recognize anywhere. Blue eyes and a huge smile came into focus as Pavel Chekov, interspace pop star and Hikaru's childhood friend, bypassed the other members of Gold Squadron and ran into Hikaru's arms. 

“What are you doing here?” Hikaru asked when they separated. The shock of Pavel's appearance had caught him off guard, and suddenly all sense of professionalism was gone. He forgot about his exhaustion from the debriefings, and didn't notice his squad spectating his reunion.

“On this Frontier or here in this room?” Pavel asked. 

“Yes.”

Pavel threw his head back and laughed heartily. Holy shit, his voice was so deep now! 

“I guess when the Frontier is on red alert, this is where they bring the VIPs,” Pavel explained. Before Hikaru had time to worry about Pavel's safety he was slapping Hikaru on the back. “Heard someone is a big damn hero!”

Hikaru was suddenly blushing and stammering. He hated praise, even when it was deserved, but from Pavel he could stand it, it felt like he was being playfully teased instead of getting his ego stroked. 

"Mr. Chekov." A man in a suit (bodyguard?) was behind Pavel, telling him something about security checkpoints. Pavel nodded to the man then turned back to his friend.

"Good-bye already?" Was all Hikaru could manage to say. 

“Yeah I have to go," Pavel said, visibly disappointed, "but can I see you again sometime? Did you get my message?”

“Message?” Hikaru asked. When was the last time he had even looked at his phone? “Sorry, we were doing training exercises all day, and right as we were headed back for the day we got the call…”

Pavel held up two hands and smiled. “Don’t worry about it, Mr. Hero. Just text me, okay? I want to see you."

“Why not tomorrow?” Hikaru suggested. “I… I want to hear everything.”

Hikaru’s squad leader was beckoning him to follow, and Pavel's security detail was tugging him away, so they quickly promised a conversation later and parted ways. 

 

 

“Hey there, stranger.”

Hikaru snorted. He had gone to answer the door of his townhome, and found his friend leaning on the doorframe with his hip jutted out dramatically in an exaggeratedly sexy pose. Still a jokester, but in the time that had passed between last night and today Hikaru had a better joke waiting. 

“Come on in,” Hikaru replied. After a quick hug he lead Pavel from the entryway landing up a short flight of stairs to his living room. “I’ve got some beer, we’ve got some six-layer dip--”

“We?”

“SURPRISE!”

Upon reaching the living room Pavel’s entire face lit up, then darkened with confusion, then lit up again as he doubled over in laughter. Before him were two more of his old friends, Nyota and Scotty, and behind them, on a holographic television screen on the living room wall, was he and the boyband he had sung with for four years. His voice was much higher back then, his facial features softer, and GOD what had they been thinking with those outfits?? His friends embraced him as the younger him was singing to an imaginary girl:

Baby you’re the only one for me,   
It’s destiny, oh can’t you see?  
I think about you late at night,  
Girl, what we have is so riiiiight~

Ridiculous lyrics produced in a boardroom to appeal to tweens and teenagers with low standards for music, but Pavel felt he couldn’t complain. Those pretty boys had secured him as a fixture in pop music, and his personal popularity had bolstered a successful solo career when the band broke up three years ago. Pavel had managed to get over the hump from doe-eyed sensitive angel baby to a more serious writer, producer, and musician, and he had the boyband Starfleet to thank for it.

“I can’t believe this,” Pavel said once their laughter had subsided. “Did you guys actually watch this stuff?”

“Are you kidding?” Nyota said, holding both of Pavel’s hands and leading him to a couch and chairs surrounding a coffee table, which held the aforementioned bean dip along with other snacks and beverages. “Any news we could get about you we pounced on! They even had special events here where they showed footage of your concerts in theaters, and we always got tickets!”

Pavel felt tears welling in his eyes. He didn’t expect to get so sappy reconnecting with friends, but he for some reason had not accounted for them being so proud of him. “You guys--”

Before they knew it the quartet were stuffing their faces and reconnecting, remembering the old and catching each other up on the new. 

Nyota, who had always had a love for language and history, was currently working for the federation, on an elite team translating ancient texts from the Protoculture. She had a dozen stories about office politics and even more about the history she was learning. Apparently in the time that she had had three district directors enter the project and then quit, Nyota and her team had been tasked with translating what they at first had thought to be a relic of some religious order, but it had turned out to be a personal message between two parties about how someone they knew was not as smart as they thought they were. “Can you believe even the Protoculture loved to gossip?” Nyota asked laughing, sending her flowing dark hair in waves over her shoulder. 

Pavel marveled at how Nyota had grown in maturity but was in some ways very much the same. She was a professional woman, but she had always been a hard worker, the type to have her textbook open during lunch and take every opportunity for extra credit in class. Pavel sometimes thought he might have been more of a slacker in school if she had not taken Pavel and Hikaru under her wing. She was only a year older than them but they had admired her so much that it made them try harder. 

Scotty had had the same sort of effect, although Pavel had interacted with him the least. He had been a senior when Pavel and Hikaru were freshmen, but he was friends with some of the juniors and would see them around whenever he showed up for football games or parties. Scotty of high school was an oddball, always hanging around the band hall and drawing weird designs in a series of moleskin notebooks. He had a weird haircut with the sides of his head buzzed short and the top of his head sprouting long waves of orange strands, and had an ear ring that he was in trouble for constantly. 

Apparently when Hikaru and Nyota were a little older the three of them had reconnected, first meeting again in little outings with old school friends, and then moving on to just the three of them. The mature version of Scotty that sat before Pavel now was an engineer, and though he had tried his hand at a few jobs and was presumed by his higher-ups to dabble more still, he was currently on a mechanical team for the Battle Frontier. 

“So all Federation jobs?” Pavel teased. “I expected more from you all.” The Frontier was technically a military cruiser, and it was pretty much expected that people who lived there would at some point work for the Federation, either inside the egg or on the ships that flew with it. 

“Is the Frontier a real colony,” Scotty joked, a carrot between his fingers as if it were a cigarette, “or is it just the backwater town of the fleet?”

An excellent question to which no one had the answer, except in chuckles.

“Good thing you got out while you could,” Hikaru said to Pavel. “Otherwise you would have been stuck working for the Federation, too!”

Pavel paused before giving a tense laugh. “Yeah,” he said, about to take another swig of beer, “that’d suck, wouldn’t it?”

“It’s great that you get to do what love,” Nyota said. “Hopefully it encourages people here to branch out a little!”

“That’s why I’m here, actually,” Pavel said. His friends looked at him, and he cracked devilish smile. “I had wanted to come home for a long time. The Galaxy is nice, but it can be so over-crowded and stuffy. That place is all business.” Pavel looked into his beer thoughtfully. “Don’t get me wrong, it was great, and I appreciate the time I had there, but the Galaxy shouldn’t be the only place where there’s music. 

“I want the Frontier to have everything people there got to have. Concerts. Celebrities. Culture. Heart.” Pavel looked up again, and found anticipation in his friends’ expressions. “I want to share what I have with my home. And to do that, I’m going to start an arts program here, to encourage people to pursue acting, singing, everything!” He waited, breathless, for what his friends thought if this lofty dream, and to his great relief found their unquestioning encouragement. 

“I’ll drink to that!” Scotty said, and they all raised their glasses. The others took a celebratory swig of their drinks while Pavel hid his expression behind a beer bottle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> shoes  
> oh my god shoes  
> LETS GO GET SOME S H O E S

As it turned out, when Pavel said he was going to share what he had with the Frontier, he had been planning to do so for a long time. He had a concert planned for that week, which had been announced the very day he had met up with Hikaru, Nyota, and Scotty. Tickets had sold out almost immediately, but his people had assured the audience not the get discouraged. Apparently this concert was to be the first in a series, meant to be the means to an end he would share at a later date. 

The Frontier was buzzing with excitement and anticipation as Pavel and his friends sat in the privacy of Hikaru’s town home late into the night, and by the time they finally had to call it a night (“some of us have real jobs,” Scotty joked while ruffling Pavel’s hair), Pavel promised free tickets to his friends and any plus 1’s they wanted. 

Nyota and Scotty were both busy with work for the concert that was to be held that week, but by some miracle Hikaru had that night off. A split second after Pavel had given Hikaru a big hug goodbye he had his phone out, telling someone or another that he needed a ticket for a friend. 

Hikaru went to bed happy, thinking of his friends and their future together. 

* * * * 

The next day after work, Hikaru decided he should probably go shopping to get something casual to wear to the concert. No holes in it, like the shirt he had worn to Pavel’s welcome home party--the hole on his right-side ribs had been hidden under his cardigan, but the point remained. He owned only a few t-shirts and a pair of pants that were in no way related to work, and the rest he had outgrown after entering the academy. 

He strolled through the shopping district with some idea of where to go, but not really in a hurry. The human walkways were decently busy for a weekday afternoon, and the larger Zentradi areas were also teeming with carefree shoppers. He heard people occasionally small-talking about the other day’s attack, but for the most part people felt safe on the Frontier, and that made Hikaru a little bit proud.

As he was meandering around the entrance of a stationary store, wondering if he should take a look for Scotty’s birthday in a month or so, Hikaru felt a tugging on the back of his shirt and turned to see what the cause was.

“Hey mister!”

He tilted his head down to see a little girl staring up at him, giving him a grin that exposed one of her missing teeth. 

“Hi!” she said happily, hopping a little and waving. “Hi mister!”

“Honey!” A man, probably her father, came running to her side, his face blushed in embarrassment. “Sorry,” the man said quickly to Hikaru, before kneeling to eye level with his daughter. “Honey, what have I told you about talking to strangers?”

“But he’s not a stranger!” the girl insisted, and it was then that Hikaru recognized her.

“Wait, she’s right,” Hikaru said, to the confusion of the girl’s father. “From the other day. You’re the little girl I picked up, right? Demora?”

The girl’s father stood and looked at Hikaru is stunned admiration. “You were the pilot?” he asked, and after stuttering a bit he held out his hand for a handshake. “Oh my God, thank you. Thank you so much.”

“Don’t mention it,” Hikaru said, accepting the vigorous handshake. “Mr…?”

“Jung,” the man said, still a little starstruck. “Ben Jung. And you are?”

“Sulu,” Hikaru said. “Lt. Hikaru Sulu, Gold Squadron.” 

The two heard Demora go “wooow”, and Ben finally let go of Hikaru’s hand to cling to Demora. No doubt he was still shaken by the events of the other day, and Hikaru knew that, for reasons ranging from the supposed glamor of a military pilot job to distrust of authority, the general public could sometimes enter Ben’s current state. The shortness of breath, the uncertainty of what to say or do, the stammering and shifting from foot to foot. Ben was clearly looking for words but finding none, so Hikaru decided, as he usually did, that small-talk was the best way to get someone out of this headspace and back to a more relaxed place.

“So what are you two doing out here today?” he asked. “Out shopping, getting a bite?”

“I need new shoes!” Demora said when her father still couldn’t find words. “See? Mine got all torn up.”

Hikaru observed her out held foot. Her shoes had once been white with a gold design on the outer side, but the white had gotten grimey overtime and the gold was peeling off in places, with the rubber soles coming off at both ends. 

“Oh wow,” Hikaru said. “Is that from the other day?”

“No!” Ben said quickly, then changed tones. “No, uh, they’re just old.” He was avoiding eye contact, as if embarrassed. Kids always tear up their shoes, you’re not a bad parent for her shoes being old, Hikaru thought but kept to himself. “We just need a replacement pair.”

“Well, I’m headed to a department store,” Hikaru said, gesturing in its direction by jutting a thumb over his shoulder. “They sell kids clothes there too. The prices are pretty good. I could show you if you want.”

Ben’s face brightened with a sheepish smile. “That would be great.” 

The trio walked through the open-air strip mall, and continued to have a little bit of small talk. Ben’s posture had relaxed, though he still clutched Demora’s hand in his as if she might fly away at any moment. She didn’t mind though, answering questions about her favorite subject in school or if she had a best friend like she didn’t have a care in the world. 

When they reached the entrance to the department store Demora suddenly let out a shriek of excitement, and Hikaru turned to see, to his great amusement, a hologram of Pavel in the entryway, surrounded by info on exclusive merch and concert dates. 

“Have you heard of this guy?” Ben asked Hikaru, though he never got an answer because Demora had left her father’s side to hop excitedly between the hologram and her older companions. 

“Did you know!” Demora said, pointing excitedly. “Did you know that he came to live here? And he’s going to have concerts?”

“I did know that,” Hikaru said with a smile. “I’m actually going to one tonight.”

“WHAT!” Demora almost screamed. 

“You’re a fan?” Ben asked. It was an honest enough question, but Hikaru felt embarrassed for some reason--there were male fans of Pavel, but to be a fan suggested something sort of... Fetishizing? Idolizing? He wasn’t sure, but before he could examine his feelings he blurted out: 

“Well I was gifted the ticket,” then to clarify, because that didn’t seem to answer the question: “Pavel is a friend of mine. We went to school together.”

“Wooooooow,” Demora gasped, absolutely star-struck. Hikaru wondered if she was at an age where kids could even fathom a celebrity’s life outside of their work. 

“Oh yeah, he’s from here, isn’t he?” Ben asked. 

“Mhm,” Hikaru replied, and he and Ben worked to corral Demora away from the hologram of Pavel twirling in a plaid shirt and into the department store. “We went to Enterprise High. How about you?”

“Oh, we aren’t from here. We’re from the Yorktown.”

Hikaru stopped in his tracks. As a member of the military Hikaru had seen a few videos of the Yorktown’s demise, and they weren’t pretty. So many people were lost, and any survivors were left without homes. He had known the Frontier had taken in refugees but had only interacted with pilots who had come over, no one in the general public. 

“I’m so sorry,” he said. “How are you doing?”

Ben watched Demora dancing across the store’s walkway and nodded sadly. “We’re adjusting,” he said simply. 

Without meaning to Hikaru and Ben kept talking, and with time Hikaru internally connected Ben’s embarrassment about the shoes to his refugee status. It was clear that they had very little money, and while Ben was good at hiding his anxiety about prices while he and Hikaru joked about some of the ridiculous designs parents these days were willing to put their kids into, he saw small glimmers of distress on Ben’s face as Demora and he would look at pair after pair of shoes only to put them back on the display. 

“Hey Demora,” Hikaru said suddenly when things were looking especially grim. “Do you need a glow-in-the-dark laser ball?”

Demora’s confusion turned to giggling as she saw Hikaru was holding up some sort of ridiculous children’s toy he had found in the sales bins.

“Mr. Sulu,” Demora said giggling, holding up a plastic package that seemed to weigh as much as she did. “Do you need 10 million diapers?”

The two laughed before Ben relaxed enough to join in on the fun. 

“Hey, hey Hikaru,” he said, already snickering before he could tell the joke. “Do you need a doll that’s probably possessed?”

The trio burst into uncontrollable laughter as Ben held out a doll that, by some tragic mishap, was not only designed to have impossibly large eyes in a fixed, creepy stare, but was also made to have her mouth slightly agape, giving it an overall vapid, disturbing 1,000 yard stare. 

This game of Do You Need continued for quite a while, sending the troup into numerous giggle fits as they pawed through the discount bins. Ben was doubled over, nearly in tears, when Hikaru suddenly stopped and picked something out of the bin: it was a small pair of girl’s shoes, in exactly Demora’s size. The shoes were white with purple stripes, very close to the shoes Demora was currently wearing, and seemed to be in her taste based on the way she ran directly to them with her arms out. 

“Let me try them on! Gimme gimme!” When she was done bouncing in excitement Ben knelt to help her tie them. She told Hikaru that she definitely knew how to tie shoes, but Ben gave Hikaru a quick glance to assure Hikaru that her statement was, in fact, false. When she was all settled in she admired the shoes and walked around in them a little, first trotting in what she must have thought was a fashion model’s gait but soon devolving into happy skips and kicks. 

“How much are they, Daddy?” she asked when she had gone a few circles around the bargain bins and made her way back to the adults. “How much?”

“Um…” Ben knelt again to look at the price tag. Hikaru looked at the bin he had pulled them from and to his delight found that everything within was 60% off. Those shoes were most likely overstocks or returns. Ben was silent for a moment before saying, in a happy tone: “Honey, are these the ones you want?”

“Can I get them?” Demora asked, eye wide.

“Yes!” Ben said, and his daughter jumped happily into his arms.

Hikaru went with them to checkout, listening to Demora babbling happily while continuing to talk with Ben. Hikaru gave himself the job of keeping Demora busy while Ben payed, and he snuck as glace as Ben proudly handed over a few crumpled bills to the cashier. 

“Hey, uh...” Ben stopping in his tracks while headed to the store’s entrance. There was ernesty in his eyes, happy appreciation for the way things had played out. “I want to find some way to repay you. For the other day I mean.”

“Oh, you don’t have to do that--”

“Please,” Ben said. Demora had wandered back to the hologram of Pavel and was twirling along with him, and Ben was looking at her with a tired expression. “She’s my whole world, and you saved her. I’d like to repay you even in some small way.”

Well that Hikaru couldn’t say no to. “Well, if you really want to, you could, I don’t know…”

“I could buy you a beer?” Ben suggested. “Or maybe I could take you to lunch.” 

Hikaru thought a moment. What could he ask of a man short on cash? Then it came to him: a small taco place on the water. It was cheap but nice, and someplace where they could sit and talk under umbrellas. 

Hikaru told him about the place, and Ben seemed to recognize it. “I’ve been there once,” he said. “It’s nice. When are you free?”

“Tomorrow works for me,” Hikaru said. “How about you.”

Ben brightened. Was he blushing. “Tomorrow works for me too.”

“Great,” Hikaru said. “Then it’s a date.”

The two shared a silent moment of anticipation, then smiled. Had Hikaru really just said that?

The two exchanged contact information before parting ways, smiling and stammering and suddenly feeling like school kids. Hikaru left the department store, walking on a cloud, and he was nearly halfway home before he realized he had failed to buy anything.


	5. Chapter 5

In a brand new shirt and jeans, Hikaru shuffled his way past other concert-goers and to his assigned seat. The people around him were mostly on their feet, waiting in excited anticipation for the event to begin. 

Hikaru had gone to a couple of live performances before, but he had never--and figured no one from the Frontier had either--attended a concert of this magnitude. 

An entire sports arena had been converted to house a large circular stage in the center, and the venue was packed to the brim like never before. Lights from unknown sources projected colors and patterns across the stage and the crowd, turning the arena and everyone in it into a kaleidoscope of colors.

Suddenly the lights went out. Nervous shouts echoed in the dark, and after a brief moment of absolute silence, a spotlight beamed directly down at the center of the platform, where Pavel stood, head down, posing. Shouts erupted all around, and Pavel looked up at the crowd, wearing the same devilish smile Hikaru had seen, crazily enough, only hours before. 

From the first dramatic chords of the orchestra and the beginnings of a light show overhead, it was apparent that Pavel was not just an artist or vocalist, but a performer. For a modern artiste such as Pavel, simply showing up the venue and singing was not enough. At his disposal was all of the technology money could buy, from three dozen musicians on instruments and computers positioned in rings around the stage to create dynamic sounds to accompany Pavel’s voice, to the elaborate holograms of the show itself, larger than life where the only limit to what could be shown was the imagination. 

The first performance began with the real Pavel floating, somehow suspended, above the stage with his arms extended and his head thrown back, rapturous. Projected from sources unknown, Pavel’s voice resonated throughout the stadium:

 

Dark is the night that obscures our faces,  
Quiet the whispers of the wind.  
But your hands on my back form wings that fly,  
You and I, you and I...

 

The lights swelled in deep red, purple, and gold, and as Pavel stopped rising to pose, the music swelled and incorporated a faster tempo, and 15-foot-tall holographic couples in elaborate costumes began to dance in a dramatic Viennese waltz. 

Pavel multiplied into four versions of himself the same size as the waltzers, all elaborately costumed in masquerade attire that on anyone else would be questionably revealing regardless of gender, but for Pavel Chekov, Sex Idol and Interspace Heartthrob, they were right on the money, and judging by the ear-shattering screams from men and women alike around Hikaru, Pavel was playing to his audience. 

Hopefully Demora only listens to stuff from the boyband days, Hikaru thought, almost laughing, as he watched two of the Pavels grinding on each other. 

 

Making the most of  
A touch so insincere  
Thoughts and feelings crumble  
With the chase to find you here

 

Hikaru listened and watched along with the crowd, but a part of his mind was elsewhere. His eyes saw his friend, a muscular, deep-voiced adonis flying above the crowd, dancing with himself, looking like he might be about to make out with himself, but Hikaru couldn’t help but think of the scrawny kid he once knew, frizzy hair and acne overtaking his head, pounding away on a piano keyboard with big dreams and an even bigger smile on his face. 

Hikaru was stunned to think that these two people were the same man, but he was proud of Pavel, and how far he had come. He looked around at the crowd, at all of the people who loved and admired his friend. 

You made it, Pash.

* * * *

After the concert, which was only six songs with the promise that Pavel’s ultimate goal would be revealed later, Hikaru made his way to the facility’s VIP section per Pavel’s earlier instructions. Some time was spent winding through the sports center’s walkways, and for a while Hikaru felt lost, until he saw a crowd of screaming fans packed like sardines into one hallway, screaming Pavel’s name. 

With much effort, Hikaru made his way through them and to a door guarded by two burly bouncers. Being a friend had apparently warranted Hikaru with coveted privileges, one of them being the VIP access pass he had, hanging from a lanyard and clutched to his chest with one hand, just in case someone saw what it was and tried to nab it. Once Hikaru was to the front of this crowd and near a roped-off section, he showed his pass to the bouncers, who nodded and let him pass. Hikaru felt people touching his back, calling him buddy, and once he was in the doorframe he quickly turned his head away from them when he was certain one woman was about to flash him in exchange for his companionship. 

The door closed and he was in a quiet space. Phew. People in suits as well as techies were minding their own business talking or packing up equipment without looking up to see who had come through the door. After scanning the room, Hikaru found an easy-going looking roadie with a beard and his long hair held out of his face by a pink bandana. The man smiled when Hikaru approached him, and happily pointed him in the right direction. 

After heading down a hall and to the right, Hikaru found the room he was looking for: a board had been put over it with Pavel’s name on it in fancy lettering. 

He knocked and was told by a very tired voice to come in. Whether the room was already like this or redone just for Pavel could not be discerned, but the space was painted and decorated in luscious shades of blue. Plush couches for lounging, a full bar covered with all kinds of food and drink, and a vanity with a lighted mirror for the talent. 

 

Pavel was lying on one of the couches, his head on the arm, one leg over the couch’s back. He had changed out of his concert attire and into mesh shorts and a white tee shirt. His hair was dripping with sweat, and there were two empty water bottles on the ground and one half-drank in one hand. Hikaru never would have guessed the physical toll of Pavel’s performance from the crowd. It had looked so effortless.

“Pash,” Hikaru said, and despite his friend’s exhaustion he sat up, turned and greeted him with a smile. 

“Hey man!” Pavel said, smiling and waving lazily. “Glad you could make it, come on in!” 

Hikaru closed the door behind him and sat on one of the couches. He felt himself sink several inches in; this thing was nicer than his bed. 

“Can I get you anything?” Pavel asked, getting up and walking to the bar with sore, bare feet. “We’ve got probably anything you can think of.” 

“I’ve always wanted to have shrimp like that,” Hikaru said, pointing to a wide margarita glass, filled with cocktail sauce with shrimp lining the glass’s rim. “Feel all fancy.” 

Pavel grabbed two of those arrangements and sat them on the blue coffee table between the couches, then went back to the bar to pour champagne into two flutes. 

“What should we toast to?” Pavel asked, sitting next to Hikaru and raising his glass.

“Why,” Hikaru said in an affected, fancy-sounding accent, “to fanciness of course!”

“Oh ho ho ho!” Pavel replied in the same inflection, and the two clinked glasses before trying and failing to sip on their beverages through their chuckling. 

The other day with Nyota and Scotty, Hikaru and Pavel had felt like they were reconnecting, but not like this. Just the two of them together felt so right, talking and laughing and joking about their lives and their work. Hikaru loved hearing about Pavel’s little cauldron of cohorts, the stuffy business people who made sure he got what he wanted, and who were hell-bent on pulling new problems out of thin air to make themselves sick over. Pavel hung on Hikaru’s every word, dying to know more about the life of a pilot. Hikaru wowed him with stories of flying in space in a mech, of being abroad battleships and hearing the drama within. As the two drank and ate and laughed they grew closer and closer on the couch, until they were practically on top of each other.

At some point Hikaru shared what he was thinking of during that first performance, of the awkward little bean pole he had known in comparison to the idol now, and Pavel threw his head back and laughed.

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Pavel teased. “You were just as much a skinny little nerd as I was!”

They got to talking about high school, at first arguing about who was the biggest nerd (“Well I’m not the one who was sucking up to the chemistry teacher--” “I STILL have pictures of you in the morph suit--!”), which then turned into them howling with laughter talking about all the stupid things they had done as teenagers. 

In no time at all Pavel was talking about the time they had been caught fooling around under the bleachers at homecoming, and had been made by the principal to hand-write a five-page letter about how sorry they were for “engaging in inappropriate activities at a public venue.”

Oh God, the elephant in the room. 

Hikaru and Pavel had been thick as thieves as teenagers, and in the brief time before Pavel left for the Galaxy, things had gotten a little… confusing. The two had never gotten past second base, but there had been something there, something that neither of them could quite put their finger on. At 15 they were not experienced or self-aware enough to comprehend those feelings, and both of them were far too shy at 15 to consider actually asking the other to be his boyfriend. There was something pure about those feelings, but also something very grown up, something they were not mature enough to act on. Which is what had lead to them fooling around, not just on that night, but on many before and after. 

Including the night Pavel told Hikaru he was leaving.

Hikaru had drifted away into bittersweet memories, and for a moment was unaware that Pavel was trying to kiss him. Their eyes locked. Hikaru could feel the vapor of Pavel’s breath on his lips as their heads hung suspended, halfway between thinking and doing. Pavel’s eyes flew completely open and he pulled away to look at the wall, embarrassment creeping over his cheeks and ears in deep shades of pink.

“Sorry,” Pavel said, flustered. “I’m sorry, I’m, I’m so sorry--”

“No, no, you don’t have to be--”

“I shouldn’t have--”

Before Pavel could say any more, Hikaru leaned in and gave Pavel a small kiss. The small kiss became a longer kiss, and then a passionate kiss. Hikaru’s hand crept to Pavel’s hip, Pavel was clutching Hikaru’s shirt. Pavel was moving closer, when there was a knock on the door. 

The two stopped kissing and looked at one another. Pavel was blinking, his eyes hazy. He moved a little bit away from Hikaru and told the person to come in. 

Some woman came in talking about something or whatever, but Hikaru’s brain was buzzing. What just happened? Were they drunk? No, they hadn’t been in here long enough to get properly smashed. They had just been talking. What the hell… 

The woman kept talking and Pavel was getting up from his seat. There were some sorrys and I have to goes and I’ll call you laters and the pair separated and drifted their separate ways, equally unsure of what had happened, and what it meant for their future.


	6. Chapter 6

Saturday morning Hikaru woke up at 5am and stared at the ceiling until his alarm went off at 6. He sprang up without breakfast and went on a run. He was back in his quarters by 7:30, showered, inhaled an omelet in the mess hall, and went back to his room.

After sitting in silence for a full minute, he opened his phone and started writing a message. 

_Hey Pavel, I’m sorry if things were weird_

“If.” It was universally accepted that “if” automatically invalidated any apology, and, Hikaru thought as he stared at his incomplete sentence, it would invalidate whatever Pavel was feeling. He deleted that and began again: 

_Pavel, about last night: I didn’t mean to kiss you while you were trying to talk_

Again he deleted the message. If, didn’t mean to, wasn’t trying to, bla bla bla. It all felt like excuses and he couldn’t think of a way to express his regret and confusion in a way that felt honest. He sat thinking for a little while before just typing “Pavel,” and then tossing his phone onto his bed. He felt pathetic.

Saturday was Hikaru’s day off, but he decided he would dedicate the remainder of his day to strength and conditioning. But he’d already taken a shower… but he didn’t have anything better to do… and he didn’t want to think about last night… 

He packed and unpacked his gym bag several times, talking himself in and out of weight lifting and boxing in between sitting in his desk chair and thinking of a text message for Pavel. He nearly jumped out of his skin when his phone’s text alert sounded, and then again when he saw that his newest message was not from Pavel, but from Ben: _We still on for today?_

Hikaru could have punched himself. His date with Ben. He had completely forgotten.

He tossed his gym bag across the room and lunged for his drawers, desperately looking through his clothes for something presentable to wear. He really didn’t own many nice things, and with a a pang of guilt he realized that the best outfit he owned was the one he had worn to the concert the night before.

“What the hell am i doing?” He muttered to himself.

 

* * * * 

 

Ben was leaning on the rail of a boardwalk when Hikaru approached. He was quiet, gazing out at the water. At first Hikaru did not make his presence known, simply watched Ben in his peaceful state. Ben was a tall man, a bit stocky, with dark, thoughtful eyes. In their initial interaction Hikaru had been distracted by the bundle of joy by his side and the general atmosphere of the shopping center, but seeing Ben here, sunlight on his skin in the quiet of the late morning, Hikaru realized Ben was actually very handsome. 

“Ben.” Hands in his pockets Hikaru approached, and when Ben turned to greet him his neutral expression turned to one of elated familiarity. 

“Hikaru,” he replied, coming away from the rail. 

“Ready to eat?” Hikaru asked.

“Rady when you are.”

The two found the aforementioned taco stand on a boardwalk along the edge of the Frontier’s artificial lake and sat at a table under colorful umbrellas. After the usual pleasantries--how is your day going so far, etc--Ben asked questions about the city, where did Hikaru like to go on his days off, what other restaurants did he enjoy. The worries of the morning melted away as they talked. Ben was an easy man to talk to, someone with the face of a good listener, and before he knew it Hikaru was pointing out buildings in the skyline and naming cross streets, telling Ben every one of his favorite haunts, reciting every bit of history trivia he could recall about the Frontier. 

“I can tell you really love this city,” Ben said. For a moment he looked a little forlorn, and then, as he looked over the water, he said: “I want my daughter to feel at home like that one day.”

Hikaru took Ben’s hand. Ben looked at their hands, then at Hikaru, who was smiling softly. “I think she will,” Hikaru said. “Just… give yourself more time, okay?”

Ben smiled, a silent thank you. 

The tacos were gone in a flash, so pair continued their date with a walk along with water, their fingers intertwined. This time it was Hikaru’s turn to ask questions, and questions turned into conversations, which turned into stories. Demora was apparently five years old, about to turn six. It was a fun age, but a rocky one when conflict was involved. Ben had been working hard to make sure that she knew that any bad thing that happened wasn’t her fault. To combat her feelings of guilt, he was encouraging her in her hobbies, which he felt could be the outlet she needed. She enjoyed photography, and loved documenting the world around her with an old camera Ben had had since before she was born. Hikaru talked about work, about his squad, and the small-town gossipy mentality that seemed to plague his branch of the military. All he wanted to do was fly, but be knew far too much about who was after whose job, what squadron was falling apart due to internal bickering, and which higher-up had been caught cheating with their secretary. Possibly because mature conversations were best left for when the children were away, and likewise because any complaints or general pet peeves of military life flowed more freely when compatriots and uniforms were nowhere to be seen, words came easily to them as they shared with one another. In the absence of those things that caused them the most stress, Ben and Hikaru seemed to be kindred spirits, two old souls on a stroll. 

During one quiet moment in their conversation the pair, still holding hands, found themselves in a small park. Hikaru wanted to suggest turning around, or else the pair might spend the day taking a lap around the entire lake, but the peacefulness of standing with someone who made him feel so at ease made him not want to say anything at all. He looked to his right to find Ben looking back at him. Ben’s eyes, the eyes he had thought looked so tired earlier that day, now looked infinite, thoughtful, beautiful. A smile spread across Ben’s face, and Hikaru felt himself smiling as well. Ben leaned in for a kiss, but partway to Hikaru’s face he looked away in embarrassment and retreated.

“Sorry… I’m not very forward,” Ben admitted. “It’s been awhile since I’ve been on a date.”

“Me too,” Hikaru said, “and if you need, I can be forward for the both of us.”

Ben blinked, and then smiled. “I’d like that.”

Hikaru leaned in and planted a kiss on Ben’s mouth. Ben tasted sweet, and he could feel Ben excitedly inhaling through his nostrils as they locked lips. 

Their faces moved apart, and they found that they were both smiling furiously. 

“I’m glad I met you,” Ben said.

“Me too,” Hikaru replied. 

They went back the way they came, talking again as easily as before about everything, about nothing. Before they knew it, and to their woe, they were back at the taco stand, and somehow two and a half hours had passed since they had met at the boardwalk.

I should get back to Demora, I should get back to my squad, agreements to talk about and a quick hug before going their separate ways. 

On the way home, Hikaru stopped to sit on a park bench and let the day sink in. He was happy, but the happiness was bittersweet, as he thought, ashamed of himself, of the night before when he and Pavel had also shared a moment of intimacy. Last night had felt like an accident, and today felt purposeful, but the fact remained that Hikaru had kissed two men in as many days and could not say for certain what would happen with either of them.

_What the hell am I doing?_


End file.
